Gregory and Charlton selected an unoccupied sofa and sat down. How long they would have to wait they had no idea but 'it seemed probable that it would be a long time if all the people already gathered there had appointments with the Field Marshal. For ten minutes Gregory flicked over the pages of 'Simplissimus", smiling at the caricatures of Chamberlain, Churchill and John Bull, which were the most prominent 'feature of Germany's leading comic; then he yawned, moved over to an arm chair and, stretching out his feet, remarked:
"We may be here for hours yet so I think I'll get some sleep."
"Sleep?" echoed Freddie. "In this state of uncertainty 1 How can you?"
"Why not?" muttered Gregory. "We may be up again all to night."
"I only hope to God we are "
"So do I, since if we sleep at all to night it may be for good. D'you know that little rhyme?
`A man's not old when his hair turns grey,
A man's not old when his teeth decay,
But it's time he prepared for his last long sleep
When his mind makes appointments that his body can't keep.'
Well, thank God, I'm a long way from having got to that stage yet, so when the time comes you can trust me to put up a show all right, but while we're waiting a spot of shut eye won’t do either of us any harm. We'll be all the fresher for it when we lunch with the Field Marshal."
A major who was seated near by eyed them curiously, as they were speaking in English, but no one else took the least notice of them and while Freddie endeavoured to distract his racing thoughts by trying to puzzle out the captions beneath the pictures in a German illustrated paper Gregory drifted off to sleep.
They did not lunch with Goering. At intervals during the morning many occupants of the room were quietly summoned from the door and had disappeared not to return again, but new arrivals had taken their places and it remained just about as full as when Gregory and Charlton had first entered it. Then, shortly after midday, a portly servant arrived and announced in unctuous tones
"Damen and Herren Schaft, it is His Excellency's pleasure that you should receive his hospitality while you are waiting to be received; but I am asked to remind you that discretion regarding business matters should be observed while you are at table. Please to follow me."
Freddie roused Gregory and with the rest of the waiting company they followed the portly man down a corridor into a large dining room. Gregory's eye lit with appreciation as it fell upon a long sideboard on which was spread a fine, cold collation and, nudging his friend, he whispered:
"There! What did I tell you? Even if we are not lunching with the Field Marshal we are taking lunch off him."
"I wish I could be as certain about dinner," Freddie muttered.
"Oh, we'll probably dine with him personally. You must remember that I haven't had the chance to talk to him yet."
"You lunatic." Freddie suddenly laughed. "I can hardly believe that all this is real, you know. It'd be just like acting in a pantomime except for the kind of nightmare possibilities that lie behind it all."
Gregory grinned. "That's better. Just go on thinking of it that way. In any case, you've got nothing to fear so long as you're inside that uniform. They can only intern you."
"That's all very well, but I'm worried about you."
"Oh, I'm an old soldier. My motto always has been `Eat, drink and be merry, for to morrow we die', and those bottles over there look to me like excellent hock. Goering always does his friends well."
Freddie squeezed Gregory's arm. "Well, whatever happens, I'd like to tell you that I'm proud to have known you."
They had been standing a little apart but now they sat down at the long table and proceeded to enjoy the luncheon provided for them. There was very little general conversation, as the butler's reminder that the reasons for this strange company's having been brought together should not be discussed served to make everyone present extremely cautious. Remarks were confined to the barest civilities and as soon as the meal was over they were all shepherded back into the other room.
In spite of his anxiety Freddie was drowsy now; which, quite apart from the fact that he had been up all night, was not to be wondered at, seeing that during luncheon Gregory had deliberately filled him up with Liebfraumilch Kirkenstuck. By half past two quite a number of people who had arrived much later than themselves had been summoned to the presence, so it seemed as though Goering had his day mapped out and might not receive them for some time to come. In consequence, Freddie decided to follow Gregory's example and they both stretched themselves out in arm chairs, side by side, to get what rest they could.
Coffee and cakes were brought at four o'clock but both Gregory and Charlton refused them and dozed on until after five. People had been coming and going nearly all the afternoon but now the room was almost empty and by six they found themselves alone, which gave Freddie his first chance to speak freely and to ask a question that had been bothering him ever since the morning.
"Why should you be so certain that Goering will see you because you sent up your Iron Cross? He'll probably imagine, as the little clerk said, that you're just an old soldier with a grouse."
"Oh, no, he won't," Gregory smiled. "That Cross is a super visiting card. You see, every decoration has engraved on its back the name of the man upon whom it is conferred. My Iron Cross has von Pleisen's name on it, and von Pleisen was the head of the anti Nazi conspiracy, that darned nearly put paid to little old 'Hitler and all his works, just on three weeks ago. The second Goering sees that name he'll know that whoever has brought the Cross is well worth talking to."
"I get you. Darned good idea, that. But, all the same, isn't there a risk that it will never get further than one of his staff someone who'll just have us up and question us and once the cat is out of the bag put us through the hoop?"
"No. If that were liable to happen at all it would have happened already. Goering's got that Cross now and he's had it for hours; otherwise we should never have been kept waiting all this time. He has evidently decided to get through his routine work before he turns his attention to the intriguing little mystery as to why von Pleisen's Iron Cross should have been brought to him; but he'll personally see the man who brought it, all right."
"I must say that, in spite of everything, I'm looking forward to meeting him," Freddie remarked. "You see, aircraft has been my passion ever since I was old enough to collect toy aeroplanes and to read the simplest books about flying. In the last war the German pilots put up a magnificent show and, after von Richthofen, Goering was the best man they had, so he's always been one of my heroes. I never have been able to understand how such a brave sportsman got himself mixed up with these dirty, double crossing Nazis."
"It was through his intense patriotism," Gregory replied quickly. "He absolutely refused to believe that Germany was defeated in the field and still declares that the Army was let down by the home front. After the Armistice he was ordered to surrender the planes of his famous air circus to the Americans; instead, he gave a farewell party to all his officers at which they burnt their planes and solemnly pledged themselves to devote the rest of their lives to lifting Germany from humiliation to greatness again."
"Yes, I know all that. But why should such people have allied themselves with blackguards like Hitler and Goebbels and Himmler?"
"Goering has never really been in sympathy with Goebbels and Himmler in fact, they're poison to him but Hitler is another matter. Say what you like, Hitler has extraordinary personal magnetism. In 1922, after having failed to make any headway on his own, Goering heard Hitler speak at Munich. He realized at once that here was a fanatic with all a fanatic's power to influence the masses a man who was preaching the same doctrine as himself and one whose wild flights of oratory people would listen to, while they only shrugged their shoulders at his reasoned arguments. From that day they joined forces. Hitler did the talking while Goering secured for him his first really influential audiences and spent his own wife's fortune on entertaining for t
he Party, thereby giving Hitler a background that he had never had before. He is a brilliant organizer and it was he who planned, step by step, Hitler's rise to power. The very fact that the two men are utterly unlike in character makes them a perfect combination and Hitler owes every bit as much to Goering as Goering does to Hitler."
"Is that really so?" Freddie raised an eyebrow. "I thought Goering was just an honest, bluff fellow who had been a bit misled, and, having been the head of Hitler’s' personal bodyguard in the early days, had risen with him."
"Not a bit of it," Gregory laughed. "Hitler is the visionary the dreamer of great dreams; but he lacks courage both physically and mentally. He listens first to one man then to another and is always swayed in his opinions by the last commer. It's absolute torture to him to make decisions. Goering, on the other hand, is a realist a man of action, with an extraordinary ability to assess values and get right to the root of a matter almost instantly. He is a man of enormous energy and a tireless worker.
"While Hitler has lain in bed at Berchtesgaden as he does on many a morning staring out across the Bavarian Alps into a mythical future where by move after move Germany gains sufficient strength to dominate the world, Goering has one by one transformed those dreams of his mythical partner into realities.
"When Hitler came to power in 1933 Germany had not even an Air Ministry. Goering became Air Minister and immediately formed the Air Sports League for teaching young Germans to fly. Two years later he gave them uniforms and foreign statesmen woke up to the fact that without their knowing anything about it Germany had the strongest Air Force in the world an Air Force that has been a threat to the peace of Europe ever since. All that was done by Goering, secretly, swiftly and with incredible efficiency. He himself is not only an ace airman but a brilliant engineer. There are probably few people in the world who know more about the construction and engines of aircraft than Hermann Goering. He chose the types; he created the factories for the thousand and one parts and products necessary to build and supply this great fighting arm. Yet at the same time he was acting as Prime Minister of Prussia; re creating the German army, playing a great part in the diplomatic sphere and doing a hundred other jobs as well."
"Yes," Freddie murmured, "everyone knows that he holds scores of posts and has a different uniform for every day, but I had no idea that he was a really brainy chap; he doesn't look it."
Gregory grinned. "Take a good look at that fine head of his when you see him, and try to recall some of his earlier photographs when he wasn't quite so fat. The weight he's put on makes his appearance deceptive now, but doesn't affect the brains inside the skull. His forehead is not only broad but high and the width of his cranium from ear to ear gives him tremendous driving force for the application of his ideas. Nose, chin, eyes, ears and mouth are all beautifully balanced and any phrenologist will tell you that it is balance which prevents one quality in a man from developing to the detriment of others plus skull capacity that is the index of real power."
"Yes, I remember those early photographs but of, course, one has come to regard him since as the fat play boy of the Nazi Party who loves food and drink and showy splendour."
"He does," Gregory agreed; "and that's why he's far and away the most popular of the Nazi leaders. People like a jovial man who has human qualities and Goering has plenty of them. He's a romantic, too, and was desperately in love with his first wife, the beautiful Karin von Fock, after whom this place is named. Everyone knows that he adores his children and is passionately fond of animals. He has made it a penal offence to destroy many kinds of birds and to ill treat dogs and horses; yet he is utterly ruthless so far as human life is concerned. In any spot of bother his orders always are, `Shoot first and inquire afterwards'. In addition to organizing Germany 's Five Year Plan for the reconditioning of every single industry in the country he has organized every Putsch and blood bath for which the Nazis have been responsible. That's why the Germans have nicknamed him `Iron Hermann'.'°
"What an extraordinary mixture he must be."
"No. It's just that he was born out of his time. He ought to have been a Spanish conquistador or a Saracen general like Suliman the Magnificent. They recognized only those who were for their religion or their country, and were capable of the most incredible barbarities against anyone who opposed them. He has the same mentality. Just like them, too, he has a passion for personal adornment and love of surrounding himself with riches and splendour. After all, the gilt and marble of this place is only the modern version of a Borgia's palace and, as you know, beneath such places there were always dungeons, torture chambers and an execution room."
Freddie Charlton shivered slightly as he glanced round the great apartment with its rich carpet and ornate furnishings. It seemed impossible to believe that perhaps. under their very feet there lay cells where men suffered and died; and that before the night was out he and Gregory might be thrown into them. Yet he knew that Gregory was right.
Unnoticed, the door had opened quietly behind them and a voice suddenly said: "His Excellency, the Field Marshal, will receive the Herr Oberst now."
Chapter IX
"He Who Sups With the Devil Needs a Long Spoon"
THEY both stood up and Freddie followed Gregory to the door, but the official raised his ‘hand.
"It is only the Colonel whom His Excellency has consented to receive."
Gregory glanced at Freddie and said in English: "He doesn't know anything about you yet, as I didn't wish to confuse the issue by mentioning that I had brought anyone with me. You'd better wait here, I think."
It was the first time since the plane had been shot down nearly three weeks before that the two had been called upon to face the possibility of a permanent separation, and in that instant Freddie really realized how much he had come to admire Gregory and to depend on him. But now that the moment had come when he was to be left alone to face whatever fate had in store for him he did not allow any trace of his apprehension to show. With a calmness that, in turn, won Gregory's admiration e just smiled and said:
"Well, good luck. I'll be seeing you."
Gregory smiled back. "Don't worry about me if I'm a long time in fact, you can take it that the longer I am the better things will be going.
The official led Gregory across the hall to a lift which rose with the speed of an American installation; then down a corridor and into a room where two of the grey clad bodyguard were sitting. They immediately stood up and while one said politely, "Permit me to relieve you of your pistol, Herr Oberst," the other, murmuring, "You will excuse this formality," slipped his hands under Gregory's armpits, from behind, and down over his pockets to his hips to make sure that he was not carrying any other weapon. He handed over his automatic and submitted smilingly to the swift patting of the expert frisker, then the first man beckoned him to a great pair of double doors and, tiptoeing forward, gently opened one of them.
Next moment Gregory found himself in Goering's vast, dimly lit study. The door closed softly behind him and he walked forward across a great empty space of thick pile carpet, vaguely glimpsing the big pictures that adorned the walls portraits of Frederick the Great, Bismarck, Mussolini, Kaiser Wilhelm II, von Richthofen, the ex Crown Prince, Napoleon, Balbo and Hitler but his mind was on the powerful figure at
the very end of the room; seated behind a fine table desk. On it there were no papers; only writing impedimenta and a scribbling block, flanked by two great silver candelabra holding a forest of tall, lighted, wax candles.
From them came the only light in the great apartment but it threw up the big head, forceful face and enormous shoulders of the Marshal. Behind him there was a panel of flaming red and gold, in the centre of which was suspended a huge executioner's sword his symbol, since it was he who had reintroduced beheading into Germany as a quick, clean death for those who differed from him in their political opinions.
Gregory had ample time to observe these details as he covered the distance between the door and the desk, but im
mediately he came sharply to attention in front of it Goering wasted no time.
Displaying the Iron Cross in his hand he said:
"Where did you get this?"
"It was given to me, Excellency, by General Count von, Pleisen himself."
"Why?"
"For services rendered, Excellency."
"When?"
"At eight o'clock on the night of November the 8th."
Goering raised an eyebrow. "What service did you render?"
"I brought him the list of the Inner Gestapo, whose duty it is to spy upon the high officers of the Army, and a letter from the Allied statesmen guaranteeing Germany a new deal if the Army leaders would overthrow Hitler and sponsor a freely elected Government."
"Who are you?"
"My name is Gregory Sallust. I am an ex officer of the last war, now employed as a British Secret Service agent."
"You must know that by making such disclosures to me you have signed your own death warrant."
"Yes. Excellency?"
"Then why do you come here?"
"Because I'm in love."
For a second Goering frowned but Gregory's unwavering gaze held his and he saw that his apparently crazy visitor was, after all, not mad. His face relaxed a trifle as he said:
"Well, why should you virtually throw away your life by coming to me about it?"
"Because, Excellency, I believe you to be the only man in Germany who may be able ‘to give me the information that I am so anxious to have about the woman I care for more than anything in the world."
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